


grow

by toujours_nigel



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16962282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toujours_nigel/pseuds/toujours_nigel
Summary: Anon asked for Hades/Persephone pegging over at mythology_kink.dreamwidth.org





	grow

Persephone in spring helps flowers bloom, tendrils twine, honey taste sweeter in beehives clustering in the trees of her mother's garden. Her skin is like rich earth turned over, her eyes gold-flecked as the dark heart of pansies with pollen, her smile the prim twist of a rosebud closed against curious eyes. She walks in her mother's verdant wake, and sings with dryads and swims with naiads and laughs when Artemis' nymphs offer her the season's first fruit, the best cut of meat.

In autumn, she comes home from home, from her mother's to her husband's house, and changes her daisy-crown for one of ivory and gold, her girl's short dress for the sweeping robes of a queen. Dread Persephone sits at her husband's side and rules over the dead. Her companions are Hekate, and the spirits of heroic women in the Elysian fields, wise Rhadamanthus. For amusement she trails her fingers in the rivers that run through Hades, feeds forgetfulness to heroes, wrath to the forgetful dead, sorrow to those striving already in Tartarus.

But O, who can take from a goddess the gifts with which she was born? In the asphodel fields flowers turn their yearning faces towards her, and from the seven pomegranate seeds of her first feast she grows a snarled knot of trees that bear silver leaves and golden fruit that open to scatter rubies. From the tree she cuts a stave and shapes it to her liking, and coats with oil from the olive groves that whisper on the coast, in the winter sun far above her head.

Her dread husband comes to her bed of night, darker in the lamplit darkness of Hades' realm, and kisses her mouth and then her hands, on his knees before her and supplicant, touches her knees and parts them. Beneath her dress of silver black, between the thighs smooth as new-sprung leaves, he finds a harness of new-tooled leather, fine as any hero's belt, and nestled in the curls of her mound and jutting proudly out a stave of warm wood, smelling of spring.

"You will play the boy for me tonight, husband," Persephone tells him, and Hades bows, and kisses her hands again, and stoops to set his mouth against the rounded tip of his queen's new phallus. It is not their first time with this game; when he had looked too long at the nymph Minthe she had bound him to the bed with mint suckers and greased him with mint oil and fucked him till he could smell nothing but her and himself, their pleasure overwhelming even the brightness of mint.

But this time, it is no punishment, and she opens him up slowly, holds him in her lap as though he is still the young godling he can scarcely remember, who escaped the cave of his father's belly and took shelter in another, as though there are things in any world that can yet make him tremble. There are. His wife's mouth on his throat where ichor beats too near the surface of his unbreakable skin, his wife's hands on his buttocks, parting them and penetrating him, his wife's eyes closing in bliss as she takes him as his brother does his boys.


End file.
